Monsters & Mindpalaces
by Hogwartsgirl221B
Summary: The Meta-Crisis Doctor and Rose crash-land in the 'real' world again. Meanwhile people are disappearing in London and when Mrs. Hudson vanishes, Sherlock decides to take the case what leads to a meeting with the Doctor and Rose. But the Doctor has an uneasy feeling that somehow Zygons are involved...
1. Chapter 1

_**1**_

The front door of the flat 221B creaked nastilywhen John Watson pushed it open. _'For Gods sake!'_, he thought annoyed.** '**_Sherlock's too _busy _to get the milk but he can't even oil the door once!'_ John had been on the move all day so it was already early evening and the sunlight began to fade (bloody winter). Sherlock was at Barts- examining stuff again. John was clueless what he was doing there, spending the past couple of hours over his microscope and other instruments. John had tried to talk to him but his friend's answer had been that it was "very complicated" and he wouldn't understand it.

The ex-army doctor stepped over the threshold. "Mrs. Hudson?", he shouted. No answer. Probably she was still out, although they had agreed they would have supper together this evening.

In his flat he pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the armrest of 'his' armchair, then he went into the kitchen to check whether there was a drink (perhaps a nice cold beer?)in the fridge left. He just wanted to open it when a little note caught his eye, which was adhered on the fridge door. John took it off. It read:

_I'm out boys, down the shops, will be back by 6_

_-Mrs. H_

He glanced at his watch. It was already half past 6 but traffic was hell that day so there was nothing to be apprehensive about. The only teensy little thought something might be wrong preyed on his mind because recently people had been disappearing off the streets. There were 'missing'posters all over the streets of London. People who had vanished taking the rubbish out, children on their way to school or back home, random people walking their dogs. Whatever had happened to those people, the police were still investigating though not getting one step closer. Of course, Lestrade had asked Sherlock for help but he had considered missing people as "dull". Besides he had spent the last days at St. Barts- not only today. He was on a case, apparently, but wouldn't work with John for some odd reason only Sherlock knew.

"No", John said to himself. "There are so many possible reasons for Mrs. Hudson's delay. " He had a god yawn- it had been quite a long day- and began with some research about this weird material Sherlock had asked (or rather told) him to do.

His research proven unsuccessful so far, John looked up an hour later and eyeballed the clock on the mantlepiece. 7:30. Frowning he let his eyes wander through the window on his left where the darkness had lain over Baker Street like a dark blanket and letting the now switched on lights of the passing vehicles seem like torches. Neither Sherlock nor Mrs. Hudson had returned. He wasn't surprised by Sherlock's absence, though- John was used to him getting home late- but Mrs. Hudson was punctual and she never missed things like appointments. Concerned John started pacing up and down, and finally decided, after some more minutes, to phone Sherlock.

"John, I was just-"

"Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson hasn't come home although she said she would be nearly 2 hours ago- she left a note. You know we wanted to meet up for supper."

"She's never late."

"I know, that's why I called you." John's voice was shaky**. "**You don't happen to know anything?"

"No." There was an undertone in his voice John couldn't quite define. "John, I want you to come to Scotland Yard, now. I will meet you there at"- He paused- "9.15. And bring that note!"

"Sherlock, why-?", John tried to ask but the beeping told him that his interlocutor had rang , he grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the flat.

Sometimes Sherlock could really get his goat since he never explained anything, but right now John was genuinely worried: firstly regarding Mrs. Hudson and secondly because Sherlock did seem to know something. Why elsedid he want to meet him just now and additionally at Scotland Yard?

The streets were still congested as the cabbie tried dig a way through the traffic. To John's surprise, though, the cab stopped at exactly quarter past 9 in front of the building where Scotland Yard was was already waiting with arms folded behind his back next to the entrance.

"Did you bring it?", Sherlock instantly asked as John joined him.

"What?", John replied dazed .

"The note."

"Oh, yeah, right." John pulled the little slip out of his jacket pocket. "But what for?"

Sherlock had a closer look on the message. "Hmmm," he muttered," no, nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"I was looking for a clue, hinting at Mrs. Hudson's disappearance. Perhaps she wrote it in haste or with a shaky hand but she even used the usual pencil, the one she always carries around with her. Now c'mon."

"Sherlock, why are we here?", John asked, furrowing his brows. "Has it got anything to do with Mrs. Hudson? Do you know anything?"

"Perhaps", was the answer he received as the two of them entered the police station. "Lestrade had phoned me right before you did regarding the disappearances. It looks like one of these incidents has happened just under our roof."

"These are the reported disappearances from the last 48 hours. Within the past days the number seems to have doubled. It's getting more and more, Sherlock. And not only London is affected. There are numerous reports from Cardiff as well and from the cities in between."

Lestrade sat in his office behind his desk with a serious face, Sherlock and John had taken seats opposite of him. He had shown them pictures of the missing persons and Sherlock was lost deep in thought, his hands joined under his chin, probably paying his mind palace a visit, John presumed. Apparently vanishing people were suddenly far more thrilling than before (Perhaps also because of Mrs. Hudson).

"So", he began, "are there any particular places? I mean places where plenty of people have disappeared or were seen for the last time?"

"No, not really." Lestrade sighed. "There was one strange incident, though. A man- Ronald Barlow - was walking down a beach in South London with his wife. As he turned to look at her she was- according to his statement- gone. Simply vanished into thin air. The wife-"

"I need the husbands address.", Sherlock interrupted him all of the sudden. Apparently he had awoken from his rigidity." And coordinates of the spot the woman disappeared as accurate as possible. I'll have a closer look."

"But Sherlock!", Lestrade proclaimed. "We have sent a team down there but of course they didn't find anything- not even you will. I mean, honestly, what are you expecting!"

"Oh, I'm not so sure," Sherlock muttered. "I'll pay that beach a visit. Meanwhile my best man will interrogate the husband."

"We already-"

"Yes, but I prefer to visualize it on my own."

"Best man?", John asked, confused. Sherlock clapped him on the shoulder and got up. John rolled his eyes- his countenance clearly expressing 'Oh, not that again.'

So John set off towards Jamestown Road to talk to Mr. Barlow whilst Sherlock took a taxi to the beach.

He was walking down the beach, searching for any kinds of special markings or just a hint- something he could start with, when a crashing noise resonated. He jumped from his squatted position to his feet. Something was about to happen, he sensed that.

Abruptly the wind started to blow, it got stronger and came from behind him which was weird since it was clear and completely windlessnight. Not even a breeze flew and there were hardly any waves on the water of the Thames that sparkled in the moonlight. Then, almost at the same time a klicking, kind of unhealthy sound rose, one that Sherlock couldn't identify and the moon was being covered by clouds.

_Chir-whoo-Chir-whoo…_

And in the direction the sudden gale had blown from, roughly a dozen yards away, a blue box started to appear.

"Come on!" The Doctor grabbed her hand and Rose stumbled with one hand covering her mouth behind him out of the TARDIS. "What the hell…was that?", she coughed. "We were just talking and…"

_FLASHBACK: Rose was sitting on the chair next to the console in the TARDIS control room- the only one in there- watching the Doctor spinning around it, pressing some buttons and twisting some wheels. The TARDIS was playing music over some sort of integrated CD-player- "Faces changing"._

"_Oh, I love that band! The lead singer is an actor from the Lord of the Rings- did you know that? God, it's been ages since I've been to the cinema the last time. Maybe we should go together once."_

"_Yeah, I suppose-, hang on." The Doctor peered at the screen. "Well, that's odd…"_

"_What's the matter, Doctor?" _

"_Not sure, but-"_

_A jerking shook the TARDIS. The music stopped playing. Rose looked at her friend with eyes wide open and swiftly got to her feet. "Oh, no", murmured the Doctor. _

"_Doctor, what's going on?" Rose hurried over to him. She only caught a brief glimpse of lots of funny symbols its meaning she didn't have a clue of, when the Doctor yelled: " Hold on tight!" _

_The next moment a chain of rattling went through the TARDIS and fortunately Rose had grabbed a handle just in time because otherwise she'd have been hurled across the room. The bumpy ride proceeded and the Doctor was unable to do anything since he was himself busy clinging to the console. Sparks sprayed and the ship let loose some disturbing noises._

_As sudden as it had started it was over and Rose was catapulted directly into the seat behind her. Smoke was now beginning to fill the control room, making both occupants cough. _

"_Out, now!", the Doctor cried._

"…then- well- what did happen, Doctor?"

The Doctor, who was standing in front of the open TARDIS door and active with an extinguisher he must've picked up on their way out, turned his head to his companion, an alarmingly severe look on his features. "Well, we… remember that time when you crash-landed with Mickey in our parallel world?"

"Yeah", she said slowly and the truth was gradually dawning on her." No, but, we can't be! I mean, what you're saying is-" She didn't have to finish her sentence.

"Yes", said the Doctor gloomily. "We're back in the 'other'- your former- world."

"How the hell did that happen?", was Rose's next question. She sounded insecure but not frightend.

"Well, apparently a gap in the universe has opened again…While I was trying to trace that signal which most likely came from here, we must've slipped through."

"Signal?" Rose frowned.

"Yeah, that's what I was trying to figure out before that bumping started. It was a bit unclear- well, now it's obvious why."

"D'you know what it was?"

The Doctor tossed the empty extinguisher back into the TARDIS and struck his hands into the pockets of his blue suit he was wearing under the long brown coat. Clearly worried, he took a deep breath."Zygons."

"Zygons? I've never heard of them before."

"You know last time you visited your family you asked me later how I spent the day and I told you I didn't do anything special, just wandering through the city?" He sighed. "I didn't mean to worry you so I kept it to myself. The truth is I had a …let's say little conflict with the Zygons. They were responsible for those people who had disappeared and suddenly reappeared again and when I found them finally they just vanished. I tried to find them again to get them from this planet once and for all but," he shook his head. "I couldn't. Back then already the TARDIS kept receiving those weird anomalies and- Rose?"

Rose had noticed a sheet of paper pinned to a nearby bin. "And now we know where them Zygons are, don't we?", she finished his sentence, staring at the poster. The Doctor approached her. It showed the picture of a woman, Kylie Benson, according to the text below, who was in her mid-thirties, last seen: 28th February. The poster informed as well about addresses and telephone numbers of relatives.

"The thing is", said the Doctor and squinted at the poster," Zygons are shapeshifters. Once they've captured a victim they copy it and relatives do not notice they were gone- at least not for long. In the parallel world the abductees reappeared after about day. I tried to find out why, what the point of it was but I couldn't. Not yet."

He turned to look down the shore for more missing posters and saw a tall man with a long, black coat, curly, dark hair and a blue scarf coming reluctantly towards them.

Sherlock had been way too baffled to speak to them earlier and Rose and the Doctor had been way too busy with their problems to notice him. Besides Sherlock had been, due to his black clothes, swathed in darkness since the moon had been hidden behind the clouds and the only light had been provided by the few lanterns up and down the shore. Now the moonlight lit the entire beach. Sherlock had thought through the whole thing thoroughly and tried to understand how this 'Police box', as it said on a sign above the double doors, could have possibly appeared out of nowhere. And when man and a girl had stumbled out of that box followed by smoke he'd been utterly confused. Coming to the conclusion that it was some odd trick he'd try to figure out later, he'd decided to talk to the strangers.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor", the Doctor grinned. "And this is Rose."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you", said the Doctor cheerfully and added more solemnly, "Whatever you are here for or did or going to do- I suggest you had better go home."

"Or", added Rose quickly. "D'you happen to know anything about the missing people?" She pointed at the poster she'd found.

"I'm investigating in that case so I suggest _you two'd_ better get off this beach. Strange things seem to happen around here." He tried not to look at the blue box while he said that.

"Oh", said Rose." So you're the police?"

Now Sherlock glanced at the police box for second. "No, I'm a consulting detective but apparently you are."

The Doctor shot a glance at the TARDIS as well before he replied smiling, "Yes, DI Doctor John Smith and Sergeant Rose Tyler. We've come to help in that case." He pulled out the psychic paper and showed it to Sherlock, simply anxious to avoid critical questions.

Sherlock kept a straight face as his eyes rested briefly on the paper and said with hands behind his back: "3 things. Firstly I consult Scotland Yard who have taken that case and they've just told me they didn't have a clue so far and certainly would have mentioned help from other police stations. Secondly, I recognize this "police public call box" and, whatever you're connection to it is, it's a model from the 1960s which does not exist on the streets of London anymore and surely doesn't suddenly appear on beaches and thirdly, that pieces of paper is blank so am I right in assuming that you're not policemen at all and do not have the intention to help?"

The Doctor Rose looked at each other incredulously. "Wow", Rose said gobsmacked, turning to Sherlock again." You're rather good."

"Yeah, you're right", sighed the Doctor but with a scrutinizing look on Sherlock he added, "We're not the police but we want to help and you can call me Doctor anyway. I'm sorry but if you would excuse us now." He got ready to set off. Rose grabbed his arm.

"Wait a sec."

"What?" Her voice was low when she explained, "If he's investigating in those incidents and is as good as he seems he might be able to help." But Sherlock had heard her.

"Me help you? I think it'd be rather vice versa but I don't even know who you really are. You've just appeared out of nowhere, apparently, and tried to lie to me."

"Let's work together then to try and solve this case!"

Sherlock didn't know why or what or even how but there was something about those two strangers that made him trust them, which was definitely a new feeling. Considering he could find out more about the two of them, he replied after a pause: "Fair enough." Before he could say something else his mobile rang. He picked it out of a pocket and – with an "excuse me" to the Doctor and Rose – he answered.

"John, have you got news for me?"

"Sherlock, I've just finished interrogating Mr. Barlow. He didn't have much to tell. Mind you, there was one thing I'd like to tell you in private. Are you still on the beach?"

"Yes, I-" He shot the new acquaintances a look. "Why can't you tell me now, where are you?"

"Outside of his house, just wanted to get a cab. Can we meet at the bus station there?"

"Ok, but- nevermind. See you."

"Who was that?", the Doctor asked as Sherlock hung up and turned to leave the beach.

"My friend, John Watson. I asked him to interrogate the husband of one of the missing. We'll meet up at the nearby bus station now because he said he had news he wanted to tell me in confidence." He paused. "I propose you'd better come with me so I can introduce you."

Sherlock went off and with a meaningful look on Rose the Doctor and eventually his friend followed him.

"So, what exactly are Zygons? What do they look like?", Rose asked softly, turning to the Doctor.

"Big, red, rubbery things", she received as an answer," covered in suckers, but as I already mentioned they can take the form anyone and have access to their memories as well.

"I just wonder", he continued, raising his voice and taking a few large steps to catch up with Sherlock who was leading their way. "Did _any_ of the disappeared people show up again?"

"No, but as you are here to help I thought you were well-informed." "Well", the Doctor commented." Sadly we're not aware of possible recent activities."

"You know", said Sherlock, "If we had more time now, I would ask you where you are from and who on earth you really are but-"

"We don't, exactly. Oh, and this must be your friend", the Doctor exclaimed and a moment later John stood in front of them. He'd already started walking towards them and waved Sherlock from a distance.

"Sherlock, who-?"

"I'm Rose, Rose Tyler and this is the Doctor. We've come to help", said Rose kindly.

"Yes", added Sherlock," We want to…work together on this case."

John stared at Sherlock disbelievingly. "You- and help? Like partners in crime/investigation?" Then he shot the Doctor a curious and very interested look, who clearly didn't miss it.

"So what's your name?", he wanted to know.

"John Watson. I'm a doctor, too- and people just call you Doctor?"

"Yeah, they do."

"Right." John turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, where the hell-"

"You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about", he interrupted his friend." So I suggest you tell me now before we put down roots."

"He's right," interposed the Doctor. "We can have our tea break later."

Out of the corner of his eyes Sherlock gave him an annoyed look. "Yeah," John said slowly, probably startled by the doctor's behaviour. "So I can tell you in front of them, can't I? Okay, Mr. Barlow claimed that yesterday he had gone out for a walk along the less busy street in Outer London to blow away the cobwebs, when he saw a glimpse of- well, according to his description, a red, tall creature through the broken window of an old warehouse."

"Did he give a further description?", Rose enquired, excited.

"No, he simply said that it looked neither like a human nor an animal- just different and kind of odd. Maybe someone dragged up for a party or something."

"In an old warehouse?", Sherlock objected, doubtingly." All on his own?"

"Well, he didn't go inside- perhaps there would have been more. He wanted to get away from there as quickly as possible just in case, you know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And he didn't tell the police about that?"

"To be honest, he didn't seem to trust them, really, and probably he thought he'd sound insane."

"But he did tell you."

John smirked. "Yeah, I mean it took a bit probing and a lot of patience, but since I was not the police…"

"Then I propose we'd better make a move. He gave you the address of the warehouse, didn't he? It's not getting brighter." He looked up to the shining moon and the exceptionally glowing stars tonight.

"Or warmer", mumbled Rose who froze in her thin jacket.

"Good", agreed John, stifling a yawn. "But first we'll have to stop at Baker Street so I can fetch my gun and a torch."

"John, will you wait with Rose and the Doctor in the cab? Then I can go and get my own gun as well."

"I could bring it, too."

"Sure, but I doubt you'd find it." With this he got out of the taxi which had stopped before 221B.

"Sherlock always hides his gun somewhere else," John answered on a quizzical look from Rose.

"Okay, so you two live here together", said remarked the Doctor cheerfully and turned his head to John. He had barely said anything since they've encountered John. He'd been silent, sometimes glancing over to him and lost in thought. So Rose had undertaken the smalltalk so far. "That's nice, I once knew a couple of-"

But John wouldn't let him finish speaking. "Jesus, no! Not like that! He's my friend- my best friend. I mean we're flatmates but no more."

"Oh, right, sorry…how did you meet?"

John sighed." I served the British Army in Afghanistan as an army doctor for 3 years. I got shot, returned to London and my old friend Mike introduced us 'cause we both needed someone to share a flat with. What about you two?"

The Doctor drew a deep breath. "You wouldn't believe it if we told you the truth."

"Why not?"

But before either of them could say anything else, the cab's door opened and Sherlock climbed swiftly in.

The next moment the cab started towards North London.


	2. Chapter 2: The desolated warehouse

_**2**_

"Now quiet everyone", whispered the Doctor. They stood in a row next to each other. The large, one-storeyed warehouse rose behind the small car park where the four of them were standing. It was a grey, stone building with a flat, corrugated iron roof which was very rusty. Apparently the building was fairly old and had been abandoned a pretty long time ago but as it was located in an area of London where a lot of houses looked slightly derelicted and only very rarely a tourist caught sight of there, obviously no one had ever bothered to replace it or simply care about its decay.

"You don't actually think we'll find anything here that'll help us", John said in a whisper as well.

"We need to check everything that could possibly be a help before we can eliminate it", objected Sherlock. "Only that way we have a chance of solving that case, John. You should know that. And anyway", he added," Mr. Barlow had seen something that sounds suspicious so I'm certain there'll be something, at least one or two clues. Why would he lie to us?"

The small group slowly approached the decayed building. In the light of their torches they could see several large windows which were dusty and soiled with cracks or- in the worst case -even smashed. A narrow metal door was situated on the very right hand side of the building.

Rose felt a bit cowed which was weird because she had experienced so many frightening situations on her travels with the doctor that in comparison this place was rather dull. And yet it seemed to her that she was being observed from somewhere in the darkness around her- or maybe through the ruined windows of the warehouse…

But every time she fixed the glow of her to torch on the windows, there was -naturally -nothing to be seen.

What gave them all shivers, though, was the complete silence. The adjacent houses were deserted as well, so there was no sound or noise to be heard. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds again and there was not even a swishing of leaves or grass (not that there was much green around).

They gathered around the door.

"Ready?", John asked and a smile, visible for a split of a second only, played around the corners of his mouth. He prepared his pistol.

Sherlock emulated his deeds.

For some reason John didn't seem nervous in the slightest. The doctor noticed that with a faint spark of discomfort. Even though John might be used to situations like that his calmness in the face of the unknown and possible danger was peculiar- and he hadn't missed that hinted smirk.

The doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and two torches and handed Rose one.

"Where'd you get that from?" she asked startled and peered hard at his pockets at his pockets. "That can't possibly fit in there."

"You know, they're bigger on the inside", he grinned.

"What is that?" Sherlock pointed with the glow of his torch at the screwdriver. "Don't you have a gun?"

"No, I never carry guns", was the doctor's response. "This'll do." He held up his sonic screwdriver.

"What the hell is that?", John asked bemused and tried the door. Locked. The doctor stepped forward and a buzzing sound resonated as the sonic screwdriver opened the lock.

It clicked. The door opened slowly (and fortunately not creaking.)

"See?", the doctor said. "Very useful." And he stepped into what appeared to be- at a first glance- a large and empty room. He put a finger to his lips to sign that neither John nor Sherlock should say another word and entered.

Sherlock found that man more eccentric with every minute but he couldn't tell whether he liked or disliked him. But he definitely disliked being shutted up- although he was clearly right. They mustn't talk anymore. But normally everyone followed him or his orders and for the first time in his life he followed someone else- he couldn't acquire a taste for that at all. Rose followed directly after Sherlock inside and after a mouthed "Rose" and a nod from the doctor's she joined him.

The four of them separated – Sherlock went straight ahead to the opposite side of the room, John headed for the centre and the other two turned left but soon separated, too- but all they found in the corners -and occasionally directly in front of them, so they had to mind out not to stumble- where boxes and planks that lay stacked or individually on the cold, dusty concrete floor. The room was vast and the ceiling seemed higher than it had looked from the outside.

Out of the sudden a in the silence deafening and echoing crash resounded that let all of them startle. "Rose", the doctor breathed, but it still echoed nearly as loud as if he had shouted. The darkness was so thick that he could hardly see any further than a few metres for the occasional moonlight didn't find its way through the windows.

"Doctor", came another breathe back but it wasn't Rose's voice, it was Sherlock's. "John?"

Suddenly the doctor brushed with his back against something solid and tall and he spun around – just to find himself pointing his torch in one and the screwdriver in the other hand at Sherlock's chest.

The detective hardly ever showed an emotion but when he bumped against something big behind him it still made him jump- until he saw the Doctor, an appalled look on his features.

"Doctor, for God's sake!" he muttered annoyed but relieved. "So you can't find your friend either", he added questioningly. The doctor shook his head, frowning. "John's gone, too. But he'd have told me if he'd found a door or passageway to further rooms."

"Perhaps he'd tripped over something and that's what caused the noise. Or... I dunno… He's unconscious and that's why he didn't response."

"But what about your girl – Rose? It cannot be a coincidence that both of them blacked out at the same time."

"No, you're right. Hold on." The doctor raised his sonic screwdriver to his left ear and adjusted some settings – then he scanned the environment.

"Doctor, what's that – " "We're alone." "Pardon?" "In the room. We're the only living beings in this room. Not the foggiest where the others are but they are not here."

"Well, there are two doors on the other side, but both are locked so they can't have gone through there. John's got a picklock but firstly he'd have told me and secondly he went to the middle of the warehouse when we separated- he wasn't anywhere near me. Then I heard that…that crashing noise and you calling for Rose. She didn't respond and nor did John when I tried. So I stepped backwards and I bumped into you. I think we can deduce that there must be a hidden door like a trapdoor somewhere and it's likely that Rose and John have been kidnapped."

The doctor started pacing and Sherlock noticed his furious expression. "You're right. If they've taken Rose that means we need to find her right now. C'mon!" His voice had risen whilst speaking, it wasn't important any more not to make a sound – after all someone or something already knew they were there.

"Hold on- you seem to know something you're withholding. What do you mean 'they'? You can't know yet who it was. It could've been a single person."

"Well, I could say 'he'-"

"If you don't explain yourself-"

The Doctor sighed and looked pitiful as he expounded , "I'm sorry but I think you're friend wasn't himself anymore when we've encountered him at the bus station."

"So you mean to say someone's pretending to be him?", Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Sort of."

"That's ridiculous!", he exclaimed. But his thoughts were racing.

"Doctor", Sherlock called across the gloomy room. They had quickly separated again to search for a possible trap door.

"Blimey", came a voice from beside him.

"I thought you were on the other side of the room?"

"Nothing there. And my torch has conked out. I tried to fix it but actually it wasn't worth the time."

"Here it is."

"What?" In the pale light Sherlock pointed with the beam of light on the floor to a spot right ahead of them where a few square metres were totally blocked by some boxes- larger and smaller ones- and other junk.

"This is it, right? I was just about to clear it."

The doctor went on his haunches and had a closer look. The outline of something that could be a trap door leapt to his eye. "That's odd", he murmured. "This passageway hasn't been used for ages. It's dusty as its environment and hardly visible at all since it fits perfectly in the ground. Well spotted! But Zygons actually don't have …" He trailed off.

"Who doesn't have what?" Sherlock looked suspiciously at the silhouette below.

"Um, nothing. C'mon, let's move this stuff away and find the other two."

"Hang on. This trap door hasn't been used for quite a long time, I agree with you. Certainly not - but Rose and John can't have disappeared through there either. They can't be somewhere down there- if there is a 'down there'- unless there's another trap door around here which I doubt…"

His new "partner" joined him and it didn't take them long to reveal the trap door. There really was no difference to the floor around it- only a tiny difference of colours. The door was made out of wood but all the dust made it look like it belonged to the concrete.

A tiny black ring to pull it open was placed on the side opposite to Sherlock. He threw back his long coat, seized the ring and gave it a tug. The trapdoor was incredibly heavy for a wooden panel and it was supposedly also a bit stuck.

The Doctor came to Sherlock's aid and together they slowly managed to pull it open. It creaked horribly. After the dustcloud had disappeared the two men peered- slightly coughing- into the darkness below lit only by the torch. No ground.

"Usually there's always a ladder somewhere…", Sherlock muttered. "Ah."

There was indeed a ladder but it was hardly visible as there was a niche in the wall below where the ladder was hidden in.

"I'm still not sure we should go down there", Sherlock objected abruptly and eyed the Doctor with a frown.

"Why not?"

"We want to find our-well, friends, in the first place, don't we? And we've agreed that they must've found another way or at least that they've certainly not passed through this very trapdoor."

"Sure", the Doctor acknowledged. "But as you will remember we initially came here to solve your case and don't you think these incidents are kinda connected to Rose and John?"

With that he jumped into the hole, clang onto the ladder and started to make his way down.

"For God's sake", Sherlock mumbled with an eye-roll and glared at the with the darkness merging figure of the Doctor and after a moment he followed him.


	3. Chapter 3: Surprise

The hole wasn't as deep as they had expected- merely like 10 feet- so both of them were positively surprised by the short climb. From above it had looked that deep because the darkness was as "thick" as in the great warehouse.

Sherlock inspected their setting with his light. At first it seemed like a small room with nothing but dusty stonewalls from which dirt was tickling down and stuffy air- until the detective whispered, "Over here."

A narrow corridor diverted from the smallish chamber they were standing in. It looked ruinous and the low ceiling gave the impression as if it could collapse any minute.

Almost at the same time the Doctor and Sherlock began to move. The hallway was too narrow for them to walk next to each other despite their skinny figures. So Sherlock swiftly went ahead in order to lead on and hence didn't have to follow the other man- or whatever he was- again. A problem, though, posed the pretty low ceiling and as the two of them were tall they had to walk crouched.

"Jesus!," the Doctor thought when he nearly hit his head on a drooping beam which underpinned the stone above them. "This must've been built when mankind was still crawling on all fours!" Just like Sherlock he didn't like to bring up the rear.

Gradually the corridor got a bit wider and steadier – the ceiling was high now and it seemed in general way saver. Additionally they were no longer walking down but their way led slightly upwards now.

While walking the Doctor tried different settings of his sonic screwdriver on the still broken torch – a noise Sherlock found absolutely annoying. After a minute or so he stopped abruptly and turned furiously around to the Doctor who could just prevent himself from bumping into him.

"What's the matter?"

"Your… whatever it is – device!" He enlightened the doctor, frowning. "How am I supposed to listen for suspicious sounds with this thingy buzzing around?"

"Yeah, right – sorry." Suddenly he narrowed his brows and raised his forefinger. "Shush!"

"You can't shush – "

"Do you hear that?"

Sherlock listened carefully and – yes – an unidentifiable sound rang in his ears, something that could be groaning.

The Doctor squeezed past Sherlock. " You stay here", he breathed determinedly. "I'll go and have a look. Don't – oh, just don't wander off", he added. The Doctor already hurried down the in darkness dipped hallway before Sherlock could tell him he'd no way stay behind. Since the Doctor had no light, merely the faint blue glint of his screwdriver he had to feel along the walls.

All along since Rose had disappeared the thought that something could have happened to her didn't let go of him. His fear sharpened his mind and yet it made it difficult sometimes to collect his thoughts.

Occasionally the moaning faded away but in general it was getting closer with every step he took. Suddenly his fingertips felt a different ground, not as cold as the stone. He inspected the wall with the light of his sonic device. It was a dark wooden door – at least it seemed to be. Carefully the Doctor placed his ear at the door and listened – and yes! – the noises he had heard definitely came from behind the door but they were very muffled which suggested that he had a pretty thick door ahead. He let the light slide along the door searching for a keyhole or a handle – but in vain. It was more like a plain wooden panel than a proper passageway.

"Why", the Doctor muttered upset. "Why does it have to be wood?" His sonic screwdriver was fairly useless now except –

He scanned the stone walls for what could be a mechanism, something hidden to open the door.

All out of a sudden the alleged door slowly started to open, scratching over the floor. The Doctor furrowed his brows. He hadn't done anything. With his assumption about the diameter of the door he'd been correct. It amounted to at least 16 inches and cautiously he put a foot across the threshold. 'Very careful now', he reminded himself, it was most likely – undoubtedly – a trap.

As he entered elongated white tubular lamps flared up on the ceiling. It was a teeny rectangular room that stretched to his right. At first he thought it was completely empty but when he turned to the right he realised at a blow that all of his presumptions and fears had just been proven correct.

Just in front of the shabby grey wall were two stands covered by red histoid-stuff. He could see two pairs of shoes jutting under the tissue. One of them where the white-grey trainers Rose had worn all day. The Doctor hesitated no longer and rushed forward to free her and the other person who was – of course – John.

"Doctor", she muttered faintly, cracking a smile when he uncovered their faces.

"You all right? John, you too?"

Both of them nodded but John didn't look good at all. He was a bit green and was now breathing heavily. "Doctor, I don't understand – when I arrived at Mister Barlows' there was –"

But the Doctor interrupted him:" It's OK now. Sherlock is waiting in the tunnel. We need to get out of here, so I'll explain later." He got cracking to tear the tissue-stuff which fettered Rose and John. Suddenly the three of them heard footsteps. The Doctor spun around and saw Sherlock bursting into the room. His eyes narrowed. "John?"

"I thought I'd told you not to follow me!" the Doctor yelled. But before either of them could say another word there were more footsteps and a second later Rose and John entered.

The next moment several things happened at once. A flashing white light filled the room, someone screamed and both, the Doctor and Sherlock, felt how their lower arms were grabbed so firmly from behind that it hurt. With hands on the back they couldn't move one muscle of their arms. As Sherlock turned his head a little he saw two thick reddish arms holding him in the palm of his hands. The creatures had taken its original shape again. Besides, the smell the creature exuded was unbelievable.

"No!" the Doctor suddenly exclaimed. (It took neither John nor Sherlock longer than a second) to realize that they were no longer in this shabby little box room. Their current location was – undoubtedly – a spaceship since their view to the left hand side showed-well, the earth shining in the light of the moon and setting itself apart from the dark piceous background.

Neither Sherlock nor John who was still (just like Rose) enchained, couldn't believe their eyes. John had kind of believed in life in outer space – like most people do – but he never thought aliens would ever appear in his life, let alone encounter them or enter a spaceship.

Sherlock, however, still believed it some trick or that he must have been drugged. At least that was what he wanted to believe. But deep inside he knew due to the events of that day that it was real.

As soon as they had caught a brief glimpse of the new surroundings a projection materialized on the big grey wall with pipelines above two double doors opposite the small group. It was only a small section from a room they could see which nevertheless seemed quite large. One Zygon was sitting in a plain, pale (greyish) chair without armrests and another creature was standing right behind him.

"Ha, gotcha!" cried the Doctor. "There you are – you're exactly who I wanted to talk to!"

"And you are who _we_ wanted to talk to." The voice was ghastly – a hissing that could send shivers down one's spine.

"What are you?" This question came from Sherlock who had a slightly panic expression in his eyes, yet his facial expression hadn't changed a bit – it was still blank and emotionless.

"You were useful, too, but now redundant. Keep your mouth shut and I will deal with you and your companion later. Otherwise you will be poisoned at the spot." The Zygon behind Sherlock raised one arm so that the others could see sharp stings in his palm.

"Why useful? To get over them to me?" the Doctor went on. "And all this new technology: teleportation, this spaceship … You were not like this when we've met last time. So tell me, Zygon commander – whatever-your-name-is – what's happened, who do you work for?"

The Zygon hissed. "We only wanted you and now we do, Doctor, finally!"

"Yeah? Pleasure, but what exactly are you gonna do with me, eh? You're obviously not many, otherwise this room'd be filled with Zygons, not only with two of them." He nodded with his head over to the pair of Zygons in the room. And why else didn't you all those people you've kidnapped? This would've made far less – ah, I see."

"Doctor?" Rose asked with wide opened eyes from behind.

"They only wanted my attention", he said calmly. "Didn't you?" he turned to the screen. "Of course I would try and save them, already back in the parallel world. And when the rift suddenly opened they slipped through. They must have known we would come, too – but how?"

"We opened the gap."

The Doctor blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"We opened the gap between the two worlds", the Zygon repeated and his nasty smile made the creature look even more atrocious.

"No, no, no, no", the Doctor objected, narrowing his eyes. "You can't just open it. That's impossible- at the very least for you. Where did you get help?"

The Zygon made no reply to that. "We only wanted you destroyed, eventually."

"But what did he do?" Rose asked furiously.

"Rose, keep yourself out!" the Doctor shouted. "But still", he continued, "this is a very good question. What did I do to make you want to kill me so desperately? 'Cause I s'ppose you went through a lot of trouble in order to prepare everything."

"Oh", the Zygon said. "I think you know that very well, Doctor." Rose stared at him and he was quite confused himself as well. Sure, he had been fighting against Zygons on many occasions but this time it was different. He hadn't encountered them randomly, they'd done everything to get hold of him and had waited specifically for him. There had to be greater interests at work. "No, I don't, but just answer me this: what good did it do to come to this world, why not destroy me right there in the parallel world? I was so close, I nearly had to."

"Ah, Doctor", the Zygon snarled, "in other ways you are so all-knowing, too. If you are not aware of it why should we tell you? Now, bring them to chamber 21, your execution will be prepared. The Doctor" – he grinned ghastly, "and the girl."

"What? Why? She is not your enemy. She hasn't done anything."

The two Zygons in the room steered them to the door, clutching to their upper arms. The Doctor turned his head around, looked Sherlock directly into the eyes. It was a very meaningful look and the detective noticed something small and longish slip out of the pocket of the Doctor's suit.

"Exactly." Both Zygons which they could see on the screen creased their faces into a grin.

"But before your death we want you to suffer. We will kill her first."

"Doctor!",John yelled but they were already outside the door, which shut behind them.

"I had nearly forgotten you two, you were so quiet." The Zygon cocked its head.

"You will wait here…" Suddenly their vision began to blur. "…wait for your fate…"

The voice faded away and darkness surrounded them.


	4. Chapter 4: The final move

The next thing John sensed was something kicking him in his left shin.

"John…John!"

"I..w..what?" As he opened his eyes that it was Sherlock's foot which caused the pain.

"Wake up, John!"

"I am! What the-" Just then he properly observed his surroundings and had to find that he and his friend were sitting shoulder to shoulder at the wall. Their hands were tightly bound to one of the thick pipes running along the wall. Definitely too strong for them to rip out. Then he noticed that odd device of the Doctor's lying merely a few feet away on the ground.

Sherlock, who'd noticed his gaze, asked: " Can you reach it?"

Although John almost dislocated his leg, he managed to touch the screwdriver with the tip of his shoe, and rolled it over towards them and the wall. Under groaning and grunting Sherlock was able to stretch his fingers far enough that he could grab the screwdriver, and after a moment of fumbling,

a buzzing resonated and John noticed that he could move his limbs again. Having cast off the poignant wire, he helped Sherlock.

"Right, just what do we do now?" he asked apprehensively. "I mean, somehow we gotta free the Doctor and Rose, haven't we?"

Sherlock lifted the sonic screwdriver. "Isn't it obvious?" John raised his eyebrows which educed a sigh from Sherlock.

"Well, since I've got the superior mind I'm going to distract those….creatures while you try and find the others."

"And _how_ are you gonna do that?"

"Give me a moment." Sherlock, who had started pacing, stopped and closed his eyes while his fingertips rested at his temples. John devoutly hoped these 'Zygons' wouldn't come back too soon.

"Got it!" Sherlock exclaimed only a few seconds later.

"Good, so?" He shot a worried glance over to the doors when a thought preyed on his mind. Very quickly he whispered, "Sherlock, what if there are cameras around?"

"Oh, I don't think so, John. They'd be here by now - and anyway this is the only choice we have got. So, the Doctor found out that they are few in number which means we can take advantage of that."

"Hm? Oh, you mean…"

"When I distract some of the creatures and above all the one who appears to be the leader, you can sneak out and find the room where the Doctor and his friend are being kept. You're the brave one." The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched.

"Ok, but how exactly will your distraction work?"

In response to that the detective pointed over to the big screen.

"Let's just hope then they are still alive…" John squared his shoulders and reached into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. "Damn! They've taken my gun!" Subsequently Sherlock passed John a small stick. The sonic screwdriver.

"And this will be of use -how?" John had not a clue how it worked. But having something to hold was better by any means than having to start this mission with nothing but his clothes.

"To liberate the prisoners obviously. Now go! We've wasted enough time."

At the door John turned around to his friend one last time. "Will you be all right?"

"I am-I will be fine, John, go!"

* * *

As John pressed the small grey button next to the double doors they smoothly slid open. He took a deep breath and then, with a careful glance into both directions, he hurried down the corridor on his right, clutching the screwdriver with his left.

As soon as the doors were closed again Sherlock's gaze drooped. He was inwardly so worried about John but they had to finish this. Also, John knows how to handle dangerous situations- he'd proved that often enough. Now it was his turn to try and ensure his friends safety as good as possible.

Sherlock drew himself up to his full height. "Zygons!" he bellowed with his deep voice, rotating around his own axis…

* * *

The corridor was narrow and bald and, to his delight, Zygon-free. Now and then rooms diverted- well, at least he assumed so since some of them didn't have doors which would've separated them from the corridor but simply several feet wide gaps, yet sometimes there were doors. Metal, dull panels which could probably be opened by the touch of buttons like those in the great room he'd just left. But the glimpses he could catch of them as he hurried as mutely as possible along told him that they were much smaller.

He reached the end of the incredibly long seeming hallway and found himself faced with yet another decision: Left or right?

He leaned onto the wall next to him and exhaled slowly. There was no point in running through corridor for corridor- he had to think. Rose and the Doctor could be God knows where! He had nothing to go on. Hopelessly he glanced down the sonic screwdriver in his sweaty hands- if he didn't do something very, very quickly it'd mean the end of them. He was likely too late already. Strictly speaking they could have been brought into one of these chambers with doors he'd seen on his way…he hesitated. The expression 'chamber' rang a bell- what did the Zygon say? '_Bring them to chamber 21'_

In his misery he startled and frantically looked around for the next door or passageway. He was so thick! Why hadn't he remembered that earlier?

There was a doorless room to his left and so John searched the wall around the passage- even the walls inside the chamber, which was surprisingly empty apart from a small console covered with buttons.

Nothing. No sign, no scratched number anywhere on the bleak, cold walls.

Suddenly, just as he wanted to step outside again, he heard hissed, muffled voices quickly getting closer. John did the only thing possible.

The Zygons marched down the corridor he had just meant to reenter and John pressed himself against the nearest wall, praying they would not come into this chamber. It didn't sound like a big group, though, maybe 5 or 6. The steps faded away and he briefly closed his eyes in relief. Anyway, he couldn't remain here.

Having decided to carry on his hopeless search for chamber 21 he put a foot into the corridor only to pull it back as quick as a lightning when two laggards came round the corner. He had not heard them coming at all.

The pair of them stopped right in front of John's room- he nearly cursed loudly but could just restrain himself

They exchanged a few words and although John didn't know let alone speak their language he seemed to understand at least the essential bits. One Zygon, the slighter taller one, was of the opinion that someone should stay in the control room but the second one, who was in an almost amusing way swinging his hands through the air whilst talking (well, John would've found it amusing if the situation hadn't been that serious), thought it was totally unnecessary for all prisoners were taken care of. "And besides," he added," both of us are needed in 21- won't take long."(At least that was John's perception about what was said)

So did that mean they were still alive?

Apparently the Zygons had agreed on going to the Doctor and Rose's execution chamber. John thought very quickly. One opportunity was to follow them to complete what he set out for. Then again the risk of being caught was too grave and how should he help them to escape when the Zygons already were present? Or he could try and find this control room the creatures had mentioned. He once more recalled the Doctor's talk regarding some higher force. Back then he'd thought that guy was completely bananas but after all that's happened…

He came to a decision within a second. Carefully he protruded his head, saw the Zygons were already a good way down the corridor and then rushed around a corner. There, too, were no signs that could lead him into the right direction. The only thing that made sense was following the hallway and hoping he'd find it soon. So he carried on, always fearing he'd come across more of the aliens.

To surprise and joy it did not take very long till the doorless corridor bent and John suddenly found himself in front of another huge metal door without a handle or a lock or anything the like. Since he wasn't keen on wasting time with searching for a button or opening mechanism he tried the sonic screwdriver – and it worked! The door slid aside and John - shivering because an icy cold draught confronted him - entered.

The door shut behind him and he looked around. He beheld a large squared room like the one with the screen and along the walls he saw consoles, about waist-high, grey and a little sordid, yet with clean and triangular buttons (in different colours) and screens. The latter were dark and obviously turned off. But John could see little red and white lights blinking between the buttons.

But what actually attracted John's attention, though, was situated right in the centre: a great, big – well, tank, John would describe it. It reached from the ground to the ceiling and was filled with black smoke. And John saw something black but solid moving inside the tank, hidden by the smoke – perhaps limbs of a body. Then, out of a sudden, two dark green dots flashed, which were most likely a pair of eyes. John swallowed. There was a creature inside the tank and it was very much alive – or was the smoke part of the creature?

All out of a sudden an odd feeling overcame him. What was he doing here? Why should he try and release the prisoners? Wasn't it all fine the way it was?

He shuddered – his thoughts cleared again. An image of the Doctor mentioning this higher force controlling the Zygons flared in front of his inner eye again. Perhaps that was it. At any rate it couldn't be anything good. John exhaled slowly, trying to keep calm and a small cloud of his breath formed in a freezing air. Carefully, and always having an eye on the creature, he surrounded the big tank and had a closer look at the desks and their buttons. As John examined the bottom of the tank he discovered a circular opening like the end of a quite thick hose-like pipe leapt into his eye. The pipe led into the floor. Maybe it was connected to one of those consoles underground? One of the buttons? Although he had no idea really how the Doctor's sonic device worked, it had helped him before, so who knows…perhaps this time he was lucky, too… He pressed the button on this screwdriver and pointed it at the tank. Was it a different sound from the one he'd heard before? He oriented it away towards the wall. Indeed, the buzzing was a tad lower with the first time. He pointed it back and managed to find the direction the pipe led – and that was – like he'd anticipated – one specific console just opposite the container. After experimenting a bit he found two big buttons that educed from the screwdriver the exact same sound as the tank. 'That must mean… '

John's heart did quite a few more beats in one second than averagely and the thuds seemed to echo inside the room while his thoughts kept continuously wandering off to his race against time. He wondered if there was any chance, whatsoever, a chance in a million, that pressing these buttons could do good. He obviously didn't want to destroy anything if it wasn't necessary or make things even worse. Maybe it would have no effect at all, maybe something else had to be switched on first… And which one should he press? _He had to do something_.

The door slid open, John spun around, he had heard nothing. A Zygon stood on the threshold, clutching his fists and froze at John's sight. And the man knew that the reason why the Zygon wasn't attacking him, yet, was his mere surprise.

Then it jumped forward, it flew at him and John had no way of defending himself and thus he closed his eyes, slamming with the palm of his hand on the left button. The Zygon emitted an excruciating, hoarse scream. John opened one eye to see in horror just in time how it collapsed with hands pressed to its forehead. The next thing he saw out of the corner of his eye was a swift movement. The smoke that filled the tank had started to stir. John could see those black limbs once more. There was nothing to be heard, but in the back of his mind he perceived a faint echo of an elongated cry. 'The creature must be in total agony`, he thought, appalled, just as there was some kind of mute explosion inside the tank and the thing – whatever it was – vanished including the smoke which slowly vaporized, leaving no traces. John stood rooted to the spot and stared at the now empty container.

'What have I done?' he thought, terrified.

Suddenly the Zygon behind the screen gritted his teeth and it seemed he was having difficulties to breath normally. Then he collapsed in a heap. Sherlock himself had frozen, rooted to the spot, puzzled. What on earth had that supposed to mean? Was it of John's making?

After about a minute he could make his feet move again.

Reluctantly he peered down the corridor outside. Nothing. Absolute silence. Just when he had started down to his right, John and Rose, led by the Doctor, ran around the nearby corner, nearly bumping into him. "Doctor?" he asked incredulously, squinting.

"Yeah, it's me, but hurry now! Follow me!" The four of them hurried back into the great chamber with the screen – still no Zygon inside – and gathered in a corner.

"John, what did you – ", the detective began.

"Later", the Doctor snapped through clenched teeth. He was already 'sonicking' a small metal plate in his left hand that must belong to the small silvery box attached to the wall. The Doctor stretched the hand out:" Put your hand on mine, now!" he demanded and it sounded hasty and rushed like he was running out of time.

"But", John inquired, "what about Mrs. Hudson and the other prisoners?"

"I'll deal with them in a moment, come on!" They did as they were told – even Sherlock. The Doctor put his other hand on the smooth surface of the box- the mechanical device-

Cool, fresh and a bit salty air tickled in their noses and the breeze ruffled through their hair. Blinking they stood on the beach were they have first met a few hours ago. But now it was covered in the orange light of a sunrise. Rose looked around and furrowed her brows: There were only three people on the beach – the Doctor had vanished - and so had the TARDIS.

"Great", John remarked, "now he is off and left us without another word."

"Use your mind, John", Sherlock admonished him, "he said, he would free the prisoners and occupy himself with the '_Zygons_'"- he still had obvious problems accepting the supernatural- " later; I'm certain he meant now. As long as they are still unconscious."

"That's true. He'd never leave me here, anyway." Rose waved her hand towards a bench. "Shall we wait over there?"

"So, John", she asked and smiled at him when they had sat down. "As I understand it, it was mainly your doing that got us out."

Sherlock looked as if he wanted to protest but she went on:" What did you do and- how did you find us?" John inflated his cheeks, then exhaled slowly.

"You know, I can't really tell, but – Oh god, I first need to start breathing again. These past few hours were…" He raised his gaze up to the brightening sky and shook his head "…bit of a shock really."

"Sure."

Not long and the now so familiar sound to Rose resounded as the big blue box materialized on the beach again. She jumped up immediately, delighted and – quite frankly – also kinda relieved. As she ran down the beach (Sherlock and John followed slower) the brown coat of the Doctor appeared in the TARDIS doors and he walked grinning from ear to ear towards his companion. They fell into a long hug.

As Sherlock cleared his throat, they broke apart. "So everything's fine?" he asked, "everyone's saved?"

"Safe and sound. Everyone where they should be."

"But they won't remember all this, will they?"

"Well, no, everyone who was up there on the ship for too long got affected by the thing that had the Zygons under control and it made them forget everything. It's like these past days or weeks never happened"

John remembered the odd feeling that had creeped up on him when he'd entered the room with the creature.

"Does that mean, the Zygons, too, lost their memory?"

The Doctor sucked in his breath. "Erm, no, you see, it obviously works differently on human' and Zygons brains." He chuckled. "When I was up there the Zygons began to come round again, but they were so confused and woozy they hardly noticed me at all. So I set their coordinates for the other side of the galaxy and off they were before they could get any idea of what was happening." He beamed at John. "So what exactly did you do before you found us?"

John sighed resigned. "All right, then" And so he told his three partners about the creature he'd found and how he'd pressed the button and how it simply vanished. "But really, Doctor, what was it?"

"I dunno", the Doctor said slowly, "sometimes there are things you never know – and I hate it."

"But they might come back", Rose objected, "or, well, is it likely there's more than the one of these-", she gestured wildly, trying to find the right word,"- things in the tank?"

"Yeah, but it's highly unlikely they'll cause any more trouble here on earth – and if they do – hang on.

He rummaged around in his coat pockets briefly and then produced a small scrap of paper and a pen. "That's my number. I hope I will hear your call 'cause, as you might have noticed, I'm always on the run."

He winked and handed the piece of paper with the scribbled number over to Sherlock. He put it without further notice into one of his coat pockets.

"Thank you", John said to the Doctor and Rose, "it seems this time even my friend would not have been able to solve this one."

Rose and the Doctor shook his outstretched hand consecutively. "Oh, no worries!" the Doctor exclaimed happily.

Sherlock squinted his eyes, yet he held his tongue since there was no point in denying the –unfortunately- inevitable truth. "So", he said, instead, "it's goodbye then, I take it."

"Don't you want to come with us – have breakfast?",John asked.

"Oh, we're fine", Rose said kindly, having noticed Sherlock's raised brows and not so pleased facial expression.

"Yeah, we'll be off any moment", the Doctor added. "It's fine, we'll probably visit the planet of_Sunnemo_n eating _corn-ciese-_ toast with these lovely yellow fruits on the rocks beneath the purple sky. You know", he turned to Rose, " at sunrise you can see both suns and both moons at the same time but of course in complete different cardinal directions." She smiled at the mere thought of it.

So they waved goodbye and John and Sherlock were already halfway off the beach when the Doctor called them back.

"Oi, you lot!" They turned around. "Just do one thing, don't tell your Mrs. Hudson anything about the events of last night."

"We certainly won't", Sherlock responded.

Rose chuckled and smiled.

"What?"

She looked at him. "Been ages since the last time."

"Since what?"

"Since you talked like her."

The Doctor's eyes were suddenly filled with that longing and sadness when he remembers all that he's lost. It hadn't been him precisely, obviously, who'd erased Donna's memory and left her- but he knew nevertheless. Either because of his connection to the 'other Doctor' or the bond that linked him with her. He'd felt it - the same pain and grief his other self was suffering, and the same feeling of despair and shock Donna had overcome when she forgot him. He knew about her rueful fate.

His face had darkened, like a shadow the memory had fallen over his features.

Rose stared at him. She hadn't thought. "God, I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's ok." Whilst he turned around to unlock the TARDIS door, he raised his hand for a faltering salute and then, after Rose, stepped inside his time machine.

Sherlock started walking towards the street to call a cab but John remained on the beach and watched the TARDIS take off with its wheezing sound until the gulls' cries, the rushing of the sea and the distant noise of early-morning traffic dominated again.


End file.
